


can't keep it a secret (won't even try)

by picturecat



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, SteveTonyFest, kind of MCU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 14:12:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9444950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/picturecat/pseuds/picturecat
Summary: Steve and Tony... and Natasha and Clint and Bruce and Thor. Somewhere, there's an alternate universe where their teammates mind their own business.





	

**Author's Note:**

> (stevetonyfest 2014 gift for yoshimars)

Steve’s phone buzzes and he pulls it out of his pocket, then sighs. It’s Natasha. Again. Sometimes she just gets in these moods, and will not let it go.

‘there’s a girl that runs a bakery near that thai place you like,’ the text reads. ‘she has a button nose. your future children would be super cute’

Tony peers over his shoulder, reading the text. “Ooh, a button nose. Damn. I’m not sure I can compete with that, Steve.”

‘please stop imagining what the potential children I would have with complete strangers would look like,’ Steve texts back. Tony snorts.

Steve wraps his arm around Tony’s waist and tugs the blanket over them, sinking back into the plush surface of Tony’s couch. Tony settles across Steve’s chest and rests his head on his arms, looking at Steve. In the dim room his face is only half-illuminated by the flickering light of the TV, and his eyes gleam faintly in the dark, a warmth underneath the surface of them and a half-crooked smile on his lips.

Steve’s phone buzzes. He raises the phone above Tony’s head to read the text.

‘there’s that waitress from the café you know her and your offspring would be really blonde. like an entire family of golden retrievers’

“What’d she say now?” Tony murmurs, eyes half-lidded.

“She says if I had kids with Beth from the Corner Nook Café we’d be a family of golden retrievers,” Steve answers dryly.

Tony huffs a laugh. “She’s not wrong,” he answers, and they fall quiet again for a moment. Then, “Tell her you can’t have kids with Beth the waitress,” Tony says softly.

“Okay,” Steve says, just as softly, and his heart is thumping hard in his chest. He sends the text.

Tony scoots up a little, presses a dry kiss to Steve’s neck, the underside of his jaw. Another kiss, this time less dry, on the exposed skin just above his collarbone, and then Tony moves up and determinedly sucks a hickey over Steve’s pulse point.

“Oh,” Steve breathes, and his free hand comes up to cup the soft hair at the back of Tony’s neck.

His phone buzzes.

‘why not she’s very nice?? :(’

“She says Beth is very nice,” Steve says, a little breathless.

“You’re taken,” Tony says smugly, and runs calloused fingers over the sensitive skin he’s raised on Steve’s neck. Steve shivers.

‘she is nice. I wouldn’t want tony to take offense and ruin her credit history or something,’ Steve texts back.

He drops his arm to the side as Tony sits up and steals Steve’s lips in a slow, possessive kiss. His mouth is hot against Steve’s, the hottest point in the room, and he turns the kiss slick when he teases Steve’s mouth open with his tongue. Steve breaks away. “God,” he says, pants a breath against the kiss-bruised warmth of Tony lips.

Tony does not appreciate the distance. He snakes a firm hand behind Steve’s head and pins him in place with another hard kiss, this time biting deliberately into Steve’s bottom lip until Steve’s head reels.

Steve works his hand up under the back of Tony’s shirt, smooths his palm over the blanket-warm skin underneath, and rolls his hips up against Tony’s weight across his groin. Tony makes a satisfied, purring kind of sound and teases his fingers gently across Steve’s nipple through his shirt, stealing Steve’s breath away.

His phone buzzes.

Steve jumps. He’d… kind of forgotten that hand existed, honestly. It wasn’t really important right now; it wasn’t touching Tony. He checks the text.

“What’d she say now?” Tony asks lowly, pressing sucking little kisses to the corner of Steve’s lips. It is very distracting, but Steve manages to read through it.

“She called me an asshole,” Steve complains, and Tony snorts a laugh and slides Steve’s shirt slowly up his torso, watching his lips with hot, heavy eyes.

Steve tosses his phone to the floor. He needs that hand for other things right now.

 

“Is it just me, or has Clint been making himself even more of nuisance lately?” Tony yawns, shedding pajamas as he turns on the shower.

Steve spits mouthwash out into the sink. “He has been awfully… well, he’s been around a lot,” he says consideringly, and screws the cap back on the mouthwash. In the mirror, he sees Tony drop his underwear, and appreciatively eyes Tony’s bare ass.

Tony apparently has a sixth sense for that sort of thing, and turns just in time to catch Steve ogling him. He winks roguishly and grins, quirking an eyebrow. Steve’s ears burn, but he rolls his eyes, slowly, to make sure Tony sees. Tony laughs at him and steps into the shower, closing it behind him.

“Do you think Clint knows?” Steve asks eventually, when the mirror’s begun to steam up.

Tony’s answer is garbled noise, unfortunately, because he brushes his teeth in the shower. Because he’s weird.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Steve asks, voice dry. He hears Tony spit, in the shower, and crinkles his nose.

“I said, ‘and what? He’s decided to follow us around in hopes of a threesome?’ No, I think Clint’s just weird,” Tony answers, and Steve rolls his eyes again, although this time Tony can’t see it.

“Tony, you don’t get to call people weird; you brush your teeth in the shower,” he replies.

He hears Tony laughing at him again. “Why does that bother you so much?” Tony asks, amused.

“Don’t change the subject,” Steve orders in his best commander voice, and Tony snorts. Steve smiles. “Hurry up and get dressed, I want to head down to breakfast,” he says normally.

“You can’t rush genius,” Tony says in a lofty tone, and Steve, for the third time that morning, rolls his eyes.

“You know I never rolled my eyes this much before I met you,” Steve says fondly, and closes the bathroom door behind him.

They leave the bedroom together, Steve looking over Tony’s shoulder at a tablet that’s displaying footage of an old battle. Clint is out in the hallway, shuffling towards the kitchen in a tattered white shirt and purple boxers. He glances disinterestedly at Steve and Tony—and then double-takes, as slapstick as anything Steve’s ever seen.

“You!” Clint says, pointing. “You—you two—“

“You are a mess before coffee, Barton,” Tony says, one eyebrow quirked. “Pull it together.”

“Tony, don’t tease him,” Steve reprimands, lips ticking upward in the corner. Clint gapes a little. “You’re not any better before your coffee.”

“Yeah, but I was smart enough to have a coffee machine in my bedroom,” Tony retorts. “Ha. Was there something you were trying to say, Hawkass?”

“You’re together,” Clint blurts. “Like, sex-together.”

“Are you thinking about us naked, Clint?” Tony asks, both eyebrows raised now.

“Ohmygod, no,” Clint says. His eyes are squeezed firmly shut. “Really no. Please no.”

“Are you actually that surprised?” Steve asks, quirking his head. “We spend so much time together, we touch each other all the time—and anyway, I thought Natasha would’ve told you.”

“Natasha did tell me! I thought she was making shit up. I thought you guys were just like that,” Clint says weakly. “You know, touchy-feely, but, like, as bros.”

“Okay, Clint,” Tony says, mockingly. “Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

“I’m very happy for you,” Clint says, backing away quickly. “Really. Do not tell me anything about your sex life.”

He flees.

 

Bruce stops outside the door to his lab. Carefully, he goes inside. “Tony, why are you in my lab?” he asks slowly.

“I’m doing angry science,” Tony answers, not looking up from the project he’s fiddling with.

Bruce considers this. “Okay,” he says, “but why are you doing it in my lab?”

“Technically I own it,” Tony retorts.

“Yeah, and technically you also own another workshop in this very building with equipment that you actually know how to use,” Bruce says slowly.

“I know how to use this equipment!” Tony protests. “I need your spectrometer. I want to measure the gamma waves coming off this thing.”

“That’s a spectrophotometer,” Bruce deadpans.

Tony points at him. “Even better,” he says.

Bruce sighs. “Tony, why are you really here? I’m pretty sure I’m the best example of why you should never ever do any sort of angry science with gamma radiation. Are you trying to turn yourself into a big green rage monster?”

Tony stares down at the device. “Steve’s mad at me,” he says finally, turning his face away.

“We’re all kinda mad at you, Tony,” Bruce says.

Tony’s shoulders stiffen. “Right,” he says tightly. “You know what, angry science in my lab, sounds great, thanks.”

“No, wait, I mean it,” Bruce says, stopping him as he tries to walk past. “You scared the crap out of us. That was a trap meant specifically to take you out, and Steve specifically told you to pull back, and you specifically flew right into it anyway. You’d have been table scraps if the other guy hadn’t pulled you out of there.”

“What, is ‘specifically’ your go-to word when you’re pissed?” Tony says harshly, and his shoulders are so tense he’s vibrating.

Bruce steps back. “I don’t mean to lecture,” he says calmly, turning away to mess with his own projects. “I just mean… if you’re that upset that Steve’s mad at you, go apologize. You frightened him.”

“I tried to apologize, but he’s locked me out of our bedroom,” Tony mutters. “I mean, I could override, but I know where I’m not wanted.”

“Oh, well, do it later then,” Bruce says absently, scrolling through data from his last experiment. These numbers aren’t what he expected at all; how fascinating—“Wait.” Bruce pauses. “What?”

“He’s locked me out,” Tony repeats. “And in my experience that means I’m not wanted.”

“No, I mean, before, the—you said ‘our bedroom.’”

“Yeah,” Tony says, quirking his head. “We’re sleeping together.”

“Really?” Bruce asks, surprised. “Since when?”

Tony’s eyebrows shoot up. “Since five months ago,” he says incredulously. “I mean, we haven’t exactly advertised it, but we thought you all knew.”

“Oh,” Bruce says. “Okay, well. Huh.”

Tony shrugs. “Alright, well, now do you wanna do angry science? I thought we could play with your chemistry set,” he says, grinning.

“Well, I—“ Bruce sighs, smiling a little. “Sure, okay.”

It’s maybe three in the morning when Tony and Bruce call it quits, and after a quick shower Tony heads back to his bedroom and stares at the door.

“J.A.R.V.I.S., let me in,” he whispers, and the door clicks. He slips inside and moves to the edge of the bed.

Steve is turned away from him, chest rising and falling evenly. Tony slides under the covers.

“I’m sorry,” he says to the broad back in front of him. Steve’s shoulders tense.

“I’m still angry at you,” Steve whispers hotly, and Tony’s heart tightens in his throat.

Tony works his jaw, nods. Swallows.

“Okay,” he says, lowly, and pushes the covers back, swinging his feet over the side of the bed.

Steve rolls over swiftly and yanks him back in, pulling Tony against his chest and wrapping his arms around him tightly. “Stupid man,” he whispers roughly, pressing a kiss to the side of Tony’s cheekbone.

Tony swallows his surprise. “You’re not—“

“I’m so mad at you,” Steve says quietly, and kisses Tony’s brow, the bridge of his nose, his eyelid. He strokes a hand through Tony’s hair. “Don’t you dare leave,” he adds.

At this point Tony must confess to some confusion. This all seems like a lot of mixed signals to him. He screwed up, Steve is angry, Steve is petting him and kissing his face. What?

But he’s not going to argue.

Tony sneaks an arm around Steve’s waist and tentatively kisses his chin, then his lips. Steve hums softly and tugs Tony in closer, and Tony insinuates his head next to Steve’s neck. He kisses the skin there, too.

“At least try not to get yourself killed, okay?” Steve says quietly. This close, Tony can feel the vibrations in his throat, the rumble in his chest. Tony exhales slowly.

“I’m never trying to get myself killed,” he mutters. “But, uh. There might be something to that Captain thing.”

Steve snorts, and for a second Steve’s arms squeeze around Tony a little too tightly. Then he relaxes. “Go to sleep, Shellhead,” he murmurs.

Tony can do that.

 

“Are you betrothed?”

Tony blinks. Quirks his head. Looks at his toast. No, he’s not hallucinating; Thor definitely just said that.

“I’m sorry, what?” Steve says from beside Tony, looking about as gobsmacked as Tony feels. That’s a good sign at least.

“Are you betrothed?” Thor repeats. “I know that means the same thing on Midgard as it does on Asgard; answer.”

That was Tony’s fault, actually. He and Clint had convinced Thor that on Earth nobody used the word ‘friend’ anymore. They’d eventually been found out, but only because Thor learned textspeak from Darcy Lewis. Afterwards Tony found himself getting static shocks just about everywhere he went, but it was worth it for the few weeks where Thor referred to everyone as “comrade.”

Like a Soviet.

“We’re not betrothed, Thor,” Steve says. He looks a little less dumbfounded, but he still blinks at Thor every few seconds. He shakes his head a little bit. “Why are you asking if we’re engaged?”

“Yeah, big guy, we’ve only been dating for about a year. We haven’t even talked about it,” Tony says, and he’s side-eyeing Steve a little as he speaks. Steve’s ears are bright red.

“But you two exchanged rings and declarations of love on your date last month,” Thor points out.

Tony gawks. “That was at Chuck E. Cheese. The rings were plastic and had cardboard swirly things in the center. And we were just being silly! It was a team outing—you guys were all there.”

“But I overheard you discussing honeymoon locations,” Thor insists.

“Honeymoon locations?” Steve is blinking rapidly, scrubbing at the back of his neck. “We never—what?”

“Milan, Lima, Munich, Panama City…” Thor waves his hand entreatingly.

“Wait, are you talking about—we were discussing known HYDRA bases!” Tony splutters.

Thor frowns. “But you—were doing that thing—with the kiss, and the nose—HYDRA bases?”

“I like kissing him, so sue me—“

“Why were you watching us?” Steve cuts in, aghast.

“You were in the theater room on Movie Night,” Thor says, looking a little puzzled. “Everyone saw you.”

Steve and Tony exchange sheepish glances.

“You two share a bedchamber,” Thor persists, put out.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean we’re getting married!” Tony bursts, standing quickly.

Silence.

“Alright, then.” Thor shrugs, and takes a casual sip of his iced tea. “My apologies.”

Tony gives Thor a hard, long look. “Alright, then,” he echoes, clearing his throat. “So we’ve got that settled.” Slowly, he sits back down.

Thor takes another noisy slurp of his tea. Tony tries to catch Steve’s eye, but Steve is staring very intently at his toast.

The air is heavy, too-still, and the quiet only breaks minutes later when Thor’s chair scrapes as he stands. Thor nods at them and leaves.

“So,” Tony says, but Steve is still being an awkward little flower.

“So,” Steve repeats, and that toast must have the fucking Mona Lisa on it in jelly and breadcrumbs.

“Thor, huh?” Tony says weakly. “Where does he get this stuff?”

His coffee, where did he put his coffee? He needs it.

“Yeah, it was really crazy,” Steve says flatly, and alarm bells go off in Tony’s mind.

Shit, he needs to fix this now.

“But, um,” Tony says, and his heart pounds at his chest. “I would,” he says. “Marry you. I mean. You’re kind of the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Tony looks down. God, someone stop him.

“You would,” Steve says, looking up finally.

Tony nods a little. “In a heartbeat,” he says.

“Oh,” Steve says. Tony dares to look up, and meets Steve’s gaze—there’s a smile on his face, small and bright, and the way he’s looking at Tony—well—

It’s a good feeling.

 

Tony proposes to Steve at Disney World in the Cinderella Castle, right after they take down a giant robot that crushed Tomorrowland.

“I’m tweeting about this,” Clint says. “Hashtag ‘too married to live.’”

**Author's Note:**

> currently cross-posting some of my tumblr fics. I haven't written a fic summary since like...... 2009, so please have mercy on me :P


End file.
